A nice man in the grocery store this morning stared at my feet and said "Is that tattoos? Is that permanent?" And of course it's not, it's the henna that lovely Anya put on for me last week. I sat with my back against a big foofy pillow and sipped iced siamese coffee while she doodled and worked and we chatted and laughed and I learned to love her smile. I'm glad I did it, and moreso I'm glad I did it so late in the war. It's left me with these lovely intricate swirly reminders of the good times and even the sad hobble home with bits of it flaking off.

The war, for those curious, was about 90% divine. I got to bartend and laugh and watch Concorde push a gallon of "meade" on several very unsuspecting drunks who were in no way prepared for the reality; a concoction of whiskey, old beer, gin, and worchestershire sauce. I hung my hammock in the woods and took long afternoon naps down there, pausing for brief bouts of reading and eating Honeycomb cereal straight out of the box. I wandered through the marketplace buying all kinds of weird and varied things.. one trip involved a silk veil, a bumper sticker, a piece of metal that only makes sense to fighters, and an ice cream cone. I had long talks with those I love and hours of time spent lolling on Caitlin's bed while she slept in her chair. I got to dance with Alex and Elf and my hair extensions got MAD compliments. Beautiful men hugged me, gorgeous women kissed me, and more than once I woke up to the sight of someone making coffee across the street.

I got to see some wonderful men get a well-deserved honor and got to sit with some friends who had been needing an ear. I got to try and let my best friend know how much I love her and got to make some new friends as well.

Every war is different, every one is good and bad in ways it never was before, I've given up ever expecting one to be like the one before and thank God for it. I miss it already. I miss it like air and sunlight. I miss living within shouting distance of those I love and I miss kisses at night. But it, or something like it, will be there next year, and all those people I love still love me, they're just an LJ away instead of a shout.

So now it's time for the real world again. I've done the bulk of my laundry, most of the junk is put away, and I'm even almost finished cleaning up for the landlord walkthrough the week after next. I've a busy Fall full of events and weddings and workshops and abusing wilfulcait's hospitality and I'm looking forward to all but the last of those (and even that is just a matter of looking forward to the spending time together but hating the cause). I'm getting to see my mother, and there are some big changes coming, but mostly it will be busy and crazy and fun and filled with love like, I am lucky to say, the rest of my life is.

That doesn't mean that when I drive past a tree with light sparkling in its leaves I won't think of my hammock, that doesn't mean I won't wish that all bars were like the pub, and that doesn't mean I won't sometimes wonder if Nearly Naked Boy is doing well and dressed warmly. But all those weeks that aren't War make me enjoy it even more.

I love that color, it's called "Dumped" and that amuses me for no good reason. One foot still has the paste on, the other is just nice and dark. I love how they look and I couldn't be more pleased with the results.

Oh no.. I meant that in the picture one still has the paste on. .but that was last Thursday and the color has long since set and the paste has long since gone. I know that the deepest set comes at 12 to 20 hours so I left these to sit for about 16 hours and the left one got nice and brown while the right one got nearly black. Yay!